


Undeserving of Your Sympathy

by soullesscas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Borrowed grace, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Kissing, Loss of Grace, M/M, Mark of Cain, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, maybe eventual smut, thats why its tagged as mature
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullesscas/pseuds/soullesscas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has nightmares. Cas hears him yelling during the night and comes to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undeserving of Your Sympathy

**Author's Note:**

> this is set in season ten. cas has borrowed grace and is living at the bunker. dean has the mark. this fic is a work in progress I'm trying here brb crying

Dean pulled into the bunkers garage and slid the keys out of the Impalas ignition. He ran a hand over his face as he sighed tiredly before shuffling out of the car and into the bunker, not even looking back to see if Sam and Cas were following him. The two others trailed after him moments later and all headed to different parts of the bunker after mumbling a quick “See you in the morning.”  
Dean yawned as he made his way to his room, which in his opinion, is way too damn far away from Baby to his liking. He finally reached his room and immediately took of his jacket and boots, glad to be free of the extra weight. Dean pulled out a pair of sweatpants and his old ACDC shirt before changing and gently stretched out on his bed. The latest hunt, a witch, had really done a number on him. He winced while stretching and rubbed his sore shoulder before flicking out the bedside light and falling asleep.  
Sleep wasn’t peaceful; he had a nightmare with the Mark. It was a recurring nightmare. It would always start out the same. He would break free of the chair Sam and Cas had had him tied to, to keep him from leaving the bunker in favor of killing people for Crowley. He’d find the Blade hidden amidst other magical and cursed items in boxes, and hunt down Sam. He always ended up killing Sam, and then hunting down Cas, who was miraculously in the bunker. Sometimes he’d get to killing Cas, though half the time, he’d wake up before he even got to that point in the nightmare. Today was one of the days where he woke after he watched the life leave Cas’s eyes, with blood, both his and Cas’s, all over Cas’s old trench coat.  
Dean woke up with a jolt, his breathing was erratic. He laid there for a few minutes reassuring himself that it was all a dream, just a dream. He was breathing deeply but that didn’t do very much in means of settling his fear. His thoughts were racing so fast it was hard for him to process everything that was going on in his head. What if one of these days I really do hurt them? I’m a monster, how can I not be? I’ve already killed so many people because of the Mark. I can’t control myself. I couldn’t live live with myself if I killed Sammy or Cas. I can barely live with myself now. Dean groaned and massaged his temples trying to calm down. He glanced at his bedside table and saw that it was only a quarter past 3 in the morning. “Son of a bitch,” Dean whispered in annoyance. Why did he have to have this dumb nightmare at ass-o’clock in the morning?  
The sound of feet thudding softly could be heard walking down the hall. It sounded like it was coming towards his room but he wasn’t sure because it was such a soft sound. He wouldn’t have even heard it if he wasn't paying attention. Dean screwed his eyes shut and prayed to god that no one came into his room. His hopes were crushed when the footsteps stopped in front of his door. Please don’t come in here. Dean held his breath as he heard his doorknob turn and he made a split second decision to pretend to be sleeping. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, dropping his head back onto the cool pillow before he heard the familiar sound of his door creaking open. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the feeling of being stared at by whoever just entered his room. He heard a gravelly voice call out his name. He didn’t say anything hoping that Cas would just leave him alone until he actually got up in the morning. Except Cas didn’t leave. He just stood there for what felt like hours even though it was probably only a minute or two. Dean was starting to panic a little because if what if Cas just stood there until he “woke up”? He wouldn’t put it past him, the angel had no sense of boundaries most times. But Dean heard the soft sound of feet on the floor and he opened his eyes to see Cas closing his door.  
What the hell was that? What did he want? Dean was thoroughly confused by what just happened. He started counting all the cracks and marks on his ceiling trying to feign off sleep in fear of having another terrifying nightmare, but also in order to keep his mind off of what happened with Cas. It’s happened more than once that he had multiple nightmares in a single night and those were the worst kind of nights for Dean. Each time he would wake up he would be in even more terrified than before. Eventually sleep won and he passed out.  
Thankfully, Dean didn’t have any dreams the rest of the night and slept peacefully, even though he did wake up at eight o’clock. After he woke up he lied in bed for a little willing himself to go back to sleep but lost hope after no avail. He peeled himself out of his cocoon of blankets and yawned, still exhausted from the lack of sleep he had gotten. He grabbed a towel, planning on showering first thing in the morning because he didn’t take one the night before and he felt pretty gross. Once he opened his door though all thoughts of showering left his mind when he got a whiff of what smelled like bacon and eggs. His mouth practically watered at the thought of actual breakfast. He hadn’t had a decent breakfast in about two weeks because the three of them have been on the road and Sam had insisted that they all ate “healthy and organic” granola breakfast bars. Dean hated eating rabbit food but ate it nonetheless because Sam wouldn’t budge.  
He threw his towel on his bed and walked to the kitchen to grab some grub. He was surprised to see that both Cas and Sam were in there; Sam was at the stove flipping pancakes while Cas was at the table reading the local newspaper. He had already decided last night that he was going to just ignore the fact that Cas had come into his room last night for some unknown reason because he really didn’t want to have to deal with something unless he absolutely had to. And anyway, Cas didn’t know that Dean was actually awake anyway.  
Sam turned around just as Dean had begun to pour himself a much needed cup of coffee. “‘Morning, princess. Did you get your beauty sleep?” Sam jokingly asked with a smile before turning back around and focusing on the food. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam before replying.  
“Of course I did, Sammy, How do you think I look this great every day?” He shot back with a shit eating grin before sitting down across from Cas. Dean took a sip of his coffee and grimaced at how hot it was before carefully taking another small sip, not caring if his tongue was burnt to a crisp as long as he got his caffeine fix. He happened to look up and lock eyes with Cas. Shit, Dean thought as he sat there frozen, unable to tear his eyes away from Castiel’s blue eyes. Cas looked slightly annoyed, yet concerned. He knows, Dean thought. But how does he know?  
Cas was the one to break the staring contest. He blinked, tilted his head, and said quietly, “Hello, Dean. How did you sleep?”  
“Uh, hey, Cas. I slept fine.” Dean said with a nod. He averted his eyes to the cup of hot coffee he was nursing in his hands. “How did you sleep?”  
“I don’t sleep.”  
Dean nodded. “Forgot,” he said, as if he were trying to make an excuse as to why he asked.  
Sam thankfully interrupted their awkward exchange. “Dean, I’ll be right back. Watch the food.” He walked quickly out in the direction of the bathroom.  
Dean and Castiel sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Dean had to get up and make sure that their breakfast didn’t burn to a crisp. Dean could feel Cas staring, but he didn’t say anything. Sam came back into the room just after Dean sat down back at the table. Sam quickly served them both pancakes, Cas eating although he didn’t quite need to.  
The rest of the day passed without incidents; Sam spent most of the day translating lore books into English, Cas spent most of the day in his room doing God knows what, and Dean spent his day in the garage working on some of the older cars left over by the Men of Letters.  
It was late by the time Dean decided to stop. He dropped into the kitchen and picked up the burger Sam had gotten him earlier in the evening but never touched. He ate it, took his forgotten-about shower, and stopped by the library to tell Sam he was turning in for the night.  
“Goodnight, Dean,” Sam told him as he turned to leave.  
“‘Night, Sammy,” Dean replied before walking back into his room. He collapsed into bed after turning off the bedside light and fell asleep quickly.  
Again, he had the nightmare. This time, Sam had begged Dean to stop, to not hurt him. “This isn’t you,” Sam said, face bloody and bruised. He had tears running down his face, but his voice was controlled. “You can fight this.”  
Dean had easily replied with, “This is the real me, Sammy. Get used to it.” He plunged the First Blade into his brother’s chest and retracted it. He heard Sam gasping, his ragged breathing coming to a halting stop. He didn’t stop and look at the body; he turned to hunt down Cas.  
Cas didn’t fight back, either. He let Dean hit him, give him horrible bruises. He dodged all slashes Dean made with the Blade, tried to get it out of his grasp. Dean fought valiantly against his component who wouldn’t fight back, but finally had him pinned to the ground, knee on his chest, hand pushing down on his throat. The Blade was in his other hand, pressed against his cheek.  
“Answer one question for me,” Dean hissed.  
Cas looked Dean in the eyes, not scared. He just stared up into black eyes, eyes void of all emotions.  
“Why the hell didn’t you fight back?”  
Cas took in a slow breath before responding. “You want this. What’s the point in fighting back, Dean, when you’ll kill me anyway?”  
Dean woke up with a start when he felt a sudden pain in one of his feet. It felt like someone had sat down on his bed and in turn sitting on his feet that were tangled in the sheets. His eyes flew open and he sat up sharply only to see Cas sitting on the end of his bed. Cas was wearing a worried expression on his face, his mouth tilted into a slight frown, eyebrows furrowed and crows feet attached to the corners of his blue eyes in the dim room. Dean sat there in slight shock and confusion about Cas being in his room and sitting there on his bed at who knows how late in the night. His mind was still reeling from the nightmare and he had no clue what Cas was doing here. They sat there staring at each other for completely different reasons for what seemed like ages before Cas finally spoke.  
“Is everything alright, Dean.?” Cas sounded confused and that in turn confused the hell out of Dean.  
“Why wouldn’t I be alright?” Dean could feel panic start to overwhelm him as he stared at Cas’ face that only seemed to look even more concerned with his lacking response.  
Well…” Cas stated with a soft sigh and a slight tilt to his head that always reminded Dean of a puppy. “I heard you shout again and I am concerned that something is wrong.”  
“So you had to sit on my foot?” Dean said with a pointed look at where Cas was sitting.  
“My apologies, Dean,” Cas said before shifting to the side and releasing Dean’s feet. Cas stared at him with his eyebrows knit together, concern still evident on his face. They sat there in silence for a few moments, Dean not really knowing what to say.  
Finally he sighed and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyelids and spoke. “I’m fine, Cas. It was probably just a bad dream, no need to worry.” he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly to prove that he was fine but he wasn’t even sure he was able to convince the angel sitting at the foot of his bed. Dean knew that it was a bad dream, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. He couldn’t just tell Cas about the dreams, he would think of Dean differently from then on. Dean couldn't stand the thought of Sam or Cas, his family, thinking even less of him. He knows that he’s fucked up in the past but somehow this is different. This time it was worse because Dean knew he was capable of killing his only family. This time he knew that he had no control over what he did. Because this time, he knew that if he did hurt them, he would enjoy every second of watching the life leaving their bodies- heartbeats getting weaker, breathing shallow, life glazing over in their bright eyes.  
Dean flinched when he felt a hand rest on his ankle through the sheets. His thoughts were halted immediately when he was reminded that he wasn’t alone.  
"Dean,” Cas inched closer so slowly that it could have been just in his dead. “Is everything alright?”  
Dean tried to look everywhere other than Cas’s face because he knew that if he did he would only see images of Cas dying at his merciless hand. He looked down at his clenched fist and his eyes traveled up his arm to focus on the Mark. Me mumbled out an aggravated “I said that I was fine.” before he clasped his other hand over the Mark, obscuring it from view.  
Dean looked up only to see that Cas was studying him intently. His eyes were briefly focused on where Dean had clamped his hand down over the Mark. He immediately met Dean’s eyes and he was shocked to see understanding pass through his best friends eyes. He noticed how Cas had that knowing look in his eyes and before he could even comprehend what was going on the angel was leaning forward, arm outstretched. Dean felt the cool pads of Cas’s fingers brush against his forehead before everything went black.


End file.
